


You will cry too (when it happens to you)

by sistabro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e13 Ghostfacers, Gen, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sistabro/pseuds/sistabro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghosts have no skin to keep them in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You will cry too (when it happens to you)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2010 [summer_sam_love](http://community.livejournal.com/summer_sam_love) challenge. Inspired by [this](http://kroki-refur.livejournal.com/203053.html?thread=9253165#t9253165) comment thread at [kroki-refur](http://kroki-refur.livejournal.com/)'s [Episode Review of Doom for 3.13](http://kroki-refur.livejournal.com/201452.html). Cap from oxoniensis.

  


 

Corbett slumps, silent now, and the camera spotlight drops a little before becoming completely still. Daggett steps back and disappears into the gloom. Sam tries to peer beyond the cone of light into the shadows to find him, but his sight is as hampered by the beam aimed at his chest as his movements are by the ropes securing him to the chair.

But even swallowed by darkness, Sam knows Daggett is still present. He can smell him. The burn of ozone in his sinuses is so strong it overpowers the taste of the corpse dust—sucked in with each shuddering breath in this awful room—that has settled onto his tongue, lined his throat and filled in all the dead space in his chest like a noxious sediment.

Daggett sidles into view again, the ice pick in one hand and something new in the other. Even though he knows it's futile, Sam still pulls against the ropes, jerks and struggles, can't stop himself nor the rising tide of panic.

"Get away from me," Sam says, an instinctive and desperate command rendered wholly ineffective by how his voice trembles and shakes.

Daggett ignores him, looms closer and blocks out the light. The ropes bruise his arms as Sam twists and throws his weight against them, instinct and training screaming for him to get away.

Sam doesn't want to die for all that he should be dead.

"This won't hurt," Daggett promises, but then he touches Sam and it does, it does.

Ghosts have no skin to keep them in and Sam is more open than most. A phantom touch against his face is all it takes to send Daggett's essence ripping through Sam's mind. For an instant, an eternity, Sam sees-feels-hears-lives—  


> _An endless litany of rejection delivered in snide, dismissive, familiar voices: Sorry, Daggett, can't make it. Happy birthday, but I already have plans. Sorry, no can do. No, sorry, no, can't come...
> 
> An abyss of devastating loneliness, self-loathing, isolation, fear, and despair. The tumble over the precipice into madness. The soothing haze of self-delusion that turned corpses into comrades for the one day when he should be special, noticed, loved. But the only song was the one on the record and the cake remained uneaten. The loneliness proved greater than the madness it had birthed, swallowing even that last comfort until all that was left were the horse tranqs upstairs and the peace of oblivion.
> 
> _

  
—it's okay," Daggett is saying still, placing something under Sam's chin. Sam tries to turn away, disoriented, but can't complete the gesture before Daggett's energy recognizes something in Sam, some like calling to like, and pulls—  


> _A gun shot from outside, Cal racing from the parking lot, the spurt of blood from Dean's chest forming a pool of red on the pavement, his brother's too still body in his arms.
> 
> Not waking up.
> 
> A haze of madness engulfing months of devastating loneliness, self-loathing, isolation, anger, and despair. The feel of the stake moving through Bobby's chest. The one doubting instant where he almost, almost, fell through to the other side of insanity and a bullet to the brain.
> 
> The absolute certainty that in two months time, on his birthday no less, that lonely abyss will open up beneath him up once more and the rest of his life will be spent falling through to nothing.
> 
> _

  
—relax," Daggett says, adjusting whatever he just put on Sam's head. In the last instant before his hand leaves Sam's cheek, one final burst of emotion comes through.

Pity.


End file.
